Here is the second of my posts on styles. See, I promised I wouldn’t leave you with funkily formatted headings forever. (If you missed the first one, it’s here.)

You’ll need to pay a bit more attention and click on more things for this one, but only a little bit. Don’t run away! It’s easy! Honest.

OK, so thanks to my last post, your chapter headings now allow you to zip around your document with the greatest of ease. But chances are they don’t look how they used to (my default Heading 1 settings make them Calibri Light, 16 point, and in blue), and the weirdness is making you itchy. It’s fine – we’re going to fix that right now.

Go to your Heading 1 style in the Styles Pane, and right-click on it.

See where it says “Modify”? Click on that.

You’ll get this dialogue box:

From here, you can change the font, size, colour, etc. If you can’t see what you want to change (for example, if you want to remove or add an indent), click on the Format box on the bottom left for more options.

IMPORTANT BIT YOU NEED TO LOOK AT BEFORE YOU SAVE YOUR DOCUMENT: If the “Only in this document” button is checked, the changes you make will apply, funnily enough, only in the document you’re currently working on. If you select the other option, it will change the template (which is probably your Normal template), which means that all the new documents you create from that template (which, if it’s the Normal one, is likely to be all of them) will have these new settings for the Heading 1 style. If you select that second option, when you exit Microsoft Word, it will ask you if you want to make changes to the Normal template. This message looks scarier than it is – if you want your newly customised Heading 1 style to apply in all your new documents, click Yes. If not, click No.

If all the stuff I just said about templates scares the bejeezus out of you, ignore it all and just keep “Only in this document” checked. It’ll mean that if, say, you like your headings in Times New Roman but your default setting is Calibri, you’ll have to change it for every new document individually, but at least you won’t have to understand anything about templates.

Once you’re happy with your style, click OK. Now go and look at your first heading. Ta daaa! It should have reformatted itself. Now, and here is the good bit, go and look at your second chapter heading. Ta double daaa! That should have reformatted itself too. Even if you have seven hundred chapters, if you’ve applied the Heading 1 style to them, they should all now be formatted with your preferred settings with just one click. (Although if you really do have seven hundred chapters, there’s a chance you might need an editor to help you address that. I know a good one.)

This is why styles are brilliant. They are bundles of formatting that can save you tons of time and effort if you need to make multiple changes to multiple bits of text. If you’re starting to come around to the idea of styles and would like to understand a little more about how they work and what you can do with them, then check out the posts below. If not, here is a picture of a baby hedgehog.

For many years, I had no idea what Word styles were. All I knew was that if you happened to move your mouse over those funny little boxes at the top of the screen, your text went weird until you moved your mouse back to the page. But that was fine – all I was really using Word for was to type up minutes for meetings, and considering hardly anyone ever read them and even fewer people ever actually completed any of their actions (I will never stop being bitter about this), my skills didn’t need to be very fancy.

But then I became an editor, and I finally discovered what those little boxes were for and how bloody awesome they were. And now I’m going to tell you.

They’re bloody awesome.

I could, if I were so inclined, explain what styles are, how they work, and some of the different things you can do with them. But some people get a bit overwhelmed by styles, and it’s evening here and I’m too tired, so instead I’m going to show you how Word styles can change your ENTIRE LIFE (or at least make any bits of it you spend writing/editing a book a little more pleasant) even if you don’t understand what you’re doing in the actual slightest. Honest.

I’m using the example of a book with chapters here, but this tip applies to any document that’s split up into titled sections. I’m also assuming you’re working on something that’s just for your own use for now, so it doesn’t need to look perfect. (Styles are actually brilliant for making things look perfect, but that stuff doesn’t fall under the “very quick tip” scope, so I’m ignoring that for now. I’ll tell you how you can make it all pretty again another day, because that’s slightly more involved, but only slightly.)

So, you’ve got your book manuscript. It has a lot of chapters. You might need to move around this document a lot, working on one chapter, checking something against another chapter. Wouldn’t it be nice if you didn’t have to scroll through hundreds of pages to find where you need to be? Well, there is a way, my friends! Just do this:

Find your first chapter heading. It’s probably at the beginning, called something like Chapter 1.

Right, here come the very technical instructions. Pay attention.

Click on “Chapter 1”. You don’t have to highlight it; just click somewhere on that line.

Find the mysterious boxes. This is called the Styles gallery, and in Word 2016 it’s on the Home tab and looks like this:

See where it says “Heading 1”? Click on that.

Argh! Your chapter heading has probably gone blue, if your default settings are anything like mine. Don’t worry about that for now (like I said, I promise I will explain how to fix it later), because as well as it being blue, something cool has happened to it.

Look in the Navigation Pane to the left of your window. If you don’t have the Navigation pane open, click “Find” on the Home tab.

You should now have something like this:

Now find Chapter 2 and do the same thing, and you’ll get something like this:

Now click on Chapter 1 in the Navigation Pane. Like magic, you’ve gone back to the beginning! That’s pretty cool, right?

You can now do that with all your chapter headings, and it will let you zip around your document to your heart’s content.

And you can do something even more fun. Let’s say you’ve realised you’ve put all your events in the wrong order. Jeremy gets killed in Chapter 7 and married in Chapter 8, and that should probably be the other way round. You could cut and paste all the text from Chapter 7 to after Chapter 8. Or, now you have your fancy-pants chapter headings, just go to the Navigation Pane, and drag and drop the heading into its new position. Voila! That whole chapter has now moved. The only way that could be more fun is if you could do it with your hands like in Minority Report.

Even if you never learn anything else about Word styles, this is a thing worth learning, if for no other reason than to save your poor scrolling finger. If you ever need to restructure a document, this will save you untold amounts of heartache. And maybe now you’ve realised that styles aren’t so scary after all, you can join me on the path to becoming a fully fledged convert. Happy styling!

Once upon a time, there was a girl. She always got picked for the big parts in school assemblies and plays: always the narrator, never the lead with an actual good costume. She always spoke eloquently and confidently, and everybody said she would do great things. She was probably really bloody annoying, to be perfectly honest with you.

Fast forward a couple of decades, and that girl … well, she’s certainly not failing at life, but she hasn’t exactly done those great things either. Somewhere along the line, all that confidence she had drifted away, worn away by the comfort of a nice little job and a nice little life. And when she … okay, it’s me, we’ve figured that out now, right? So I can switch to first person? When I had to set up my own business and make it on my own, that lack of confidence, along with my well-documented fear of failure, meant imposter syndrome often came calling.

Almost the minute I’d agreed, I wondered what the hell I’d done. Giving a conference session? Me? An editor who’s only been in the game a couple of years? Who’s going to take me seriously? Why on earth should they? But I’d said yes now, so I started to prepare. It was hard. I had to learn how to use PowerPoint, which surprised me – how the hell do you work in an office for 11 years without ever having to use PowerPoint? I had to research and refine my thoughts and ideas into something coherent, entertaining and informative, and then I had to practise saying it. And the more I practised, the more I remembered that annoying, confident girl. And when I stood up in front of that room of people, I felt her back with me again.

The session went really well – not perfectly, but then nothing does, and I count it as a huge measure of personal growth that I’ve barely given the mistakes a second thought since (except for “fucktion”. That was pretty funny). And – and here’s the bit that keeps surprising me – people said, and continue to say, really nice things about it. People said they had fun, that my session was funny and entertaining, and I’m so grateful for that. But even better are the comments that picked up on the more serious points I was making (yes, there were a few. I can do serious sometimes). Yes, it was about swearing; yes, it was silly; yes, it involved the creation of a game which is basically Cards Against Humanity for word nerds. But I genuinely have to edit a lot of swear words, and those words deserve as much editorial care as any other word I deal with. So I was glad people recognized that and, even better, didn’t laugh at the fact it was little old me telling them about it. It’s boosted my confidence, in both my editing and my public speaking skills, immeasurably.

Comfort zones change over time. But unless we’re vigilant, they only grow inwards. They shrink, without us noticing, until they’re far too cosy to break out of easily. But breaking out of a comfort zone isn’t always trying new things. Sometimes it’s trying old things, breaking out of who you’ve become and reminding yourself of who you were. Of who you still can be. And of those great things that are still within your reach.

September, as I’ve said before on this blog, is a time of new beginnings for me. And what better way to start this new year than by attending my second Society for Editors and Proofreaders conference? When at the very beginning of last year’s conference I saw that the date of this year’s coincided with my birthday, I decided I wasn’t going to go. But by the end of the conference (recounted at great length here, here, here and here), I was already doubting that decision, and by the time this year’s conference rolled around, not only had I completely changed my mind, I’d also agreed to lead a short session.

I’ll talk more about the experience of swearing at a roomful of colleagues for forty-five minutes another time (my session was about swearing, by the way. I didn’t just forget what I was supposed to do and start being rude to people), but for now here are my probably not very coherent thoughts about the sessions I attended.

First up was the Whitcombe Lecture, delivered by Lynne Murphy. I love Lynne’s blog, and I am absolutely cursing myself for not having picked up a copy of her book, but I could hear my alarmingly large TBR pile shouting at me all the way across the Pennines. Her talk on the differences between US and UK editing cultures was fascinating. Although I interact with a lot of US editors online, I hadn’t realised there was such a difference in style, and I’d certainly never thought about how that might relate to the more general cultures of each country – Lynne discussed the US’s preference for written rules in general, compared to the UK’s reliance on tradition. I’d also underestimated just how much more grammar education people get in the US compared to the UK – my generation was lucky if we got told what a noun was.

After coffee and biscuits (cherry cookie, pretty nice) I attended Eleanor Collins’s session on editing narrative openings. As a writer, I think I’m quite good at writing openings – for me, they’re often where the whole idea for the rest of the story grows from – but it’s clear that a lot of authors struggle with where and how to start their books. When editing, I can usually spot a problem with an opening and identify a better solution, but Eleanor’s session has given me a stronger framework and vocabulary to better explain the solutions to clients. Although it seems I’m in the minority in absolutely hating the opening to Enduring Love by Ian McEwan. I don’t care about your bloody salad, mate, tell me what’s happened to this balloon!

Lunch was next (controversial opinion: the dumplings weren’t really all that bad, once you knew they were dumplings), and then it was time for Maya Berger’s session on editing erotic fiction. As someone who regularly edits erotic romance, there wasn’t a great deal that was new for me here – this is the eternal conference dilemma: go to sessions that are relevant to your work and risk going over old ground, or learn something new that you might never need. But I really enjoyed the session anyway – Maya discussed what can be a delicate or embarrassing subject with tact, wit and professionalism, and there is always something to learn – for example, Maya had useful resources and tips for finding work editing erotica.

The last session of the day was mine, and once that was over I popped briefly in to the social media social, which is a lovely way to put real live faces to the names and avatars you’ve spent all year chatting online with. That evening was the gala dinner, including a great speech by Sam Leith, a hilarious performance by the Linnets, and friendly and funny conversation with my table-mates. And wine.

On Sunday morning, after packing up my titchy little room (it was very weird sleeping in student halls for the first time in…more years than I care to think about) I headed for Laura Poole’s session on making more money. I was very much looking forward to this one, as it’s the part of my business I need to do the most work on. Laura has so much energy that you can’t help but feel inspired by it, and the session definitely encouraged me to think more carefully about what my financial goals are and how I might achieve them. It’ll take work though – as Laura started her session by saying, “The dream is free; the hustle is sold separately.”

Next was Erin Brenner’s session on using business data to increase profits. I really enjoyed this session, although it did make me wonder: Why aren’t I better at data? A huge part of my old job was about capturing data and trying to make people use it to make better decisions, so I don’t really know why I’ve neglected to do this for my own business. I do track my time, but Erin’s session also looked at tracking and analysing enquiry and client information, which I currently don’t do anything with. I feel a new spreadsheet coming on…

The last elective session of the conference was Sarah Grey on inclusive language. This session was amazing, although sadly cut short due to time constraints and technical gremlins. Sarah’s main point was the radical notion that we should treat people – ALL people – as though they are people. Inclusive language welcomes people into a text, while exclusive language makes people feel as if it is not for them, and surely that’s something most authors would want to avoid. I’ve always felt that knowing when to flag problematic language can be a difficult line to walk in fiction – there are considerations of character voice to take into account – but as editors it’s important to think about what our responsibilities are not just to our client, but to their readers, and in particular any who may be hurt by the words the author has chosen.

The final session was the joint plenary with the Society of Indexers conference, given by Kathryn Munt of the Publishing Training Centre. She gave us a really interesting insight into offshoring in the publishing industry. I could feel a few hackles around the room being raised, but Kathryn was keen to point out she wasn’t trying to sell an idea – this is something that is already happening. It raised interesting questions about how we as editors – both collectively and individually – can engage with this process, and encourage the outsourcing companies to engage with us to ensure that quality doesn’t suffer.

It was a thought-provoking end to a fantastic conference. I learned a lot, I was inspired to do things differently in my business, and, of course, I loved meeting up with online friends old and new and making connections with people I’d never interacted with before. I’ve said it before, ad nauseum, but I’ll say it again, the SfEP community is incredible and I’m so proud to be a part of it.

And I’m especially proud that I was on the winning quiz team. Granted, I knew absolutely nothing about any of the literature questions and had to leave all those to my friend Nikki and the incredibly brainy Society of Indexers members who were on our team, but I knew my encyclopaedic knowledge of cheesey pop lyrics would come in handy some day. The next quiz (and, you know, the next conference) will take place in Birmingham on 14th September 2019. I’ll see you there.

Hi, everyone! It’s back-to-school time already. If you need me, I’ll be trying to figure out what happened to 2018.

One of the many things I did over the summer was sort out my garden. My garden isn’t the greatest. A combination of terrible soil, lack of sunlight in key areas, and an owner who knows the square root of fuck all about plants (I mean, what idiot plants mint in a flowerbed?) means that it usually looks like a random mess of vaguely green things that may or may not be there on purpose. Now it looks like this:

Editing’s a bit like gardening. There comes a time when you need to pull out all the dead and dying bits, the weeds that crept in while you weren’t paying attention, and the unruly plants that will take over given half a chance, so the flowers can flourish. Some gardens require a little delicate trimming with secateurs; for others you need to get out the heavy-duty lopping shears.

Mine was edging towards the latter, so I called in reinforcements. My mum and dad came over, armed with tools and superior knowledge of how to bring my poor battered hebe back to life (it never really recovered from the Beast from the East). My mum’s the developmental editor: she’s the one who tells me what has to go completely and what just needs a bit of pruning. She knows what will happen if I hack off all the branches that look slightly damaged (I did not consult her before doing this, and my once glorious ceanothus is now extremely lopsided), and can help me transplant my pieris to somewhere it’s not going to be choked to death by the Japanese anemones.

My dad’s the copy-editor. He likes to get things looking neat and perfect. He spent hours on my lawn, mowing it to a nice consistent length, then tidying the edges until they were straight and pristine, making sure that all my mum’s hard work in sorting out the plants wasn’t spoiled by straggly, unkempt grass.

And then there’s the giant phormium. This lives just outside my garden, in the communal parking area. Like the hebe, it did not enjoy the extreme winter, and it ended up with half its leaves dying, while simultaneously growing twelve-foot high stems that lurched menacingly in the breeze. One day, bored of looking at it through my office window, I decided I was going to sort it out.

I didn’t know where to start. This thing was huge. There were dead bits everywhere. I couldn’t even begin to think about making it look nice until I’d made it more manageable. So out came the loppers, and off came anything that obviously didn’t need to be there. Now I can see what I’m actually dealing with, and as soon as I remember to put my garden bin out so there’s room in it, I can focus on making it look pretty again.

Granted, this is a lot easier to do with a plant than a story. You can see which bits of a plant you need to get rid of by the fact that they’ve turned brown and shrivelled up. Elements of a story which no longer belong there aren’t so easily identified. And you didn’t spend hours of your life slaving and agonising over each bit of the plant (unless you did. Some people are really into plants.). So this is where you need other people to help you wield your shears. Critique partners, writing groups, alpha/beta readers, professional editors – all can help you see what can be so hard for an author to see, that some of your beloved words need to be trimmed. As an author, it’s easy to lose sight of what is and isn’t helping your garden grow.

So, the morals of this blog post are: stories are like gardens, editors can help you prune, and don’t plant mint in a flowerbed.

I’ll tell you a secret: I am in awe of anyone who writes a novel. Anyone. Even if the book is terrible. Even if it’s barely readable. I’m still in awe. Because they sat down and they wrote a damn book.

I’ve been trying to do that for years, but the longest thing I’ve managed to write so far was about 15,000 words long. In my head it was originally going to be a novel, but apparently writing that many words is not yet something I can do. But I was proud of my little story, and I wanted to do something with it. I don’t really have the patience for the long process of querying, especially for something that’s such an awkward length, so I decided: why not become one of those indie authors I work with every day?

So I did. I am now an actual author! This is very exciting. I’ve wanted to be an author since I was little, and how I can finally say I am one. And here’s what I learned along the way.

Cover by Elizabeth Grey.

Books won’t write themselves

I know, right? What a revelation. But I think part of me was somehow hoping this wasn’t really true. This story had been floating around my head for ages, but the actual getting-it-down part was the thing I kept never getting around to. But no one else is going to do that for you, as I discovered. And then once it’s down, there are the editing, feedback and more editing stages, which are crucial. So now it’s done, I wish I’d started sooner, and kept going with it. You’ll never achieve something if you don’t actually do the thing. (Deep, I know.)

Even editors need editors

I knew this, and so I asked another editor I know to copyedit for me. And I knew I was sending her tight, clean copy that wouldn’t need too much doing to it. But there were still errors, and still stupid sentences like “He shook his head to clear such a ridiculous thought from his head”. There comes a point where you can’t see your own work, so a fresh pair of eyes on it is an absolute must.

I am “that” client.

Turns out, I’m a pain in the arse. I’m that client, the one who insists her words are too precious to mess with. My editor did a great job, and I took lots of her advice. But I also ignored some of it, just because I didn’t like it. And you know what? It was my right as the author to do this. This is one of the first lessons an editor needs to learn. As editors, all we can do is suggest. If the author wants to put something out there that’s less than perfect, or even downright wrong, there’s nothing we can do about it. It’s not our name on the cover. But it’s my name on this cover, and I needed to feel completely comfortable with every change that was made to my work. In the best author–editor relationships, both parties totally understand that, and I hope I have those with my clients, because I know I did with my editor.

It might surprise you who will buy your book

I’ve had some lovely and surprising messages from people I haven’t seen in years, people I only know from social media, and friends of my husband’s who I’ve never met, saying they bought my book and enjoyed it. Nothing makes you feel like a Proper Author more than knowing someone other than your mum is reading your work (to be honest, I’m not totally sure my mother has read it).

I have the best cheerleaders

I’m not sure I ever would have got this story out into the world without lots of encouragement and love from my friends and family. Many of them gave up their time to read my story and tell me their thoughts, and without their kindness my story would still be languishing on my computer. I’m sure there are people who would say it should probably stay there (I was once told not to even think of publishing anything until I’d written a million words), but that was never what I wanted for this story. I wanted to share it, and now I have, thanks to the people who believed in me.

I’m really glad I published my story. It was so interesting to be on the other end of editing, and to see the rest of the self-publishing process that I’m not normally involved in. I hope it’s going to make me a better editor, and I hope the buzz of doing it will motivate me to get on with some of my other writing projects. And hopefully it won’t be another five years until the next one’s finished. Honestly, I’m worse than George RR Martin. And I don’t even have flying dragons or incest to worry about.

If, by the way, you’d like to buy said (extremely tiny) book, it is available on Amazon in e-book or paperback formats. And if you’d like to leave me a review, I’d probably squeal with excitement.